Prim's Games
by shel-belle
Summary: What if Katniss couldn't volunteer? If Prim was reaped and placed into the Games? If she charmed the whole nation of Panem, including the other tributes? Including the cruelest and harshest, like Cato and Clove? Prim's Games, how it would've happened.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games Trilogy; Suzanne Collins does.**

**A/N: I began writing this and then re-read the book, so some parts won't follow exactly like the books. In this chapter, Katniss returns early from hunting and gathering before Prim and her mother get ready for the reaping.**

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><p>I climb into Mother's bed, pressing into her side like I always do when I'm anxious.<p>

Tomorrow is the day of the reaping. Only last year did my family allow me to watch the Games, but even then, they covered my eyes and ears whenever something bad happened - which was pretty often.

I want to tell them that I'm big and can handle it so they won't have to shield me anymore.

But I can't.

I know Katniss, Gale, Rory, or anyone else can get picked. Including me. Even from my limited knowledge of the Hunger Games, I know that the reaped would die. Always.

Katniss takes care of everyone. Gale, too. What would happen to us if one of them left? I push that thought away quickly. I don't want to think of that. It might be considered bad luck.

I rest my cheek on Mother's cool arm and try to sleep. I feel Buttercup's fur tickling my shoulder and I reach out to stroke his head. He purrs.

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><p>I wake up to the bright sunlight streaming through our tiny window. Mother is sorting through her old dresses at the opposite end of the room. Katniss is lying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows and gazing at me distractedly.<p>

"Katniss?" I say quietly. She's not blinking. "Katniss," I repeat when she doesn't reply. She finally blinks and sets her gray eyes at me.

"Oh," she says, looking startled. "Prim, are you alright?"

"Fine, of course," I answer slowly.

Something doesn't feel right about my sister. She seems different somehow. Skittish, maybe, with a nervous air around her. Or I could just be imagining it...?

Katniss blushes, gazing down at her hands, "I just thought - your first reaping...and..."

She's worried about me, I realize immediately. I smile brightly to reassure her. "Katniss, I really am fine. Mostly just worried for you and Gale."

They've taken a lot more tesserae than anyone else that I know. Katniss returns my grin weakly, not looking the least bit comforted.

Mother calls my name softly, holding up the smallest outfit she could find. I think it was my sister's first Reaping clothing too. I can tell it won't fit me too well. It's pretty, though. A white ruffled blouse and a dark brown skirt with small flowers sewn on it. Mother helps me get dressed and gently tightens it using pins, making sure not to prick me. She tucks the blouse in and neatly plaits my hair into two perfect braids.

Katniss takes a quick bath and pulls on her Reaping dress - a beautiful slender blue one with matching flats. Mother braids my sister's hair also, twisting and weaving it to make a crown above her forehead. She tugs a wispy stray strand of hair right back in the fancy braid before changing her mind and crisscrossing it over the back of Katniss's neck and finally finishing it like my sister's usual side braid.

I stare at her, amazed at how beautiful my sister looks and feel myself rising on the tip of my toes to touch the shiny, silky, dark brown hair. I jerk back abruptly, horrified at myself for almost ruining Mother's hard work. I quickly fold my hands together, noticing my cheeks heating up. Mother smiles and winks at me before turning away, pretending she didn't see what I almost did. I sheepishly glance at Katniss again, watching her gaze at her reflection through our cracked mirror. She's trying to hide a frown; I can tell because the corners of her mouth keep on twitching unhappily. I don't understand - she's beautiful. I tell her that. Katniss forces a light smile and replies, cautious to not hurt my feelings.

"And I look nothing like myself."

She suddenly pulls me into a tight hug and I squeeze her warmly, trying not to hold on to long; she might discover how truly terrified I am with the prospect of being eligible for the Games. Katniss must have seen something in my expression because she doesn't let go.

"It'll be alright, Prim," she murmurs comfortingly. "Only one slip in thousands. You won't get picked."

"I know," I whisper back, voice cracking slightly.

Katniss gently raises my chin using her fingertips so that I can look straight into her deep solemn eyes.

"Listen to me: You will _not _get picked," she says firmly, almost harshly.

I flinch and nod hurriedly.

"I'm sorry," Katniss apologizes, planting a kiss in my hair and stepping back.

I smile to let her know that I'm alright and she's forgiven.

"Tuck in your tail, little duck," she says calmly, as if our brief exchange never happened.

I stare at her in bewilderment before she laughs and brushes my blouse into the skirt. _Oh. _Then, I finally register what she called me.

"Quack," I reply, giggling. I reach over to feel the back of the skirt to check.

"Quack yourself," Katniss laughs again. My sister looks so pretty when she smiles. The corner of her eyes crinkle happily and she looks so relaxed, finally carefree. "Come on, let's eat." She swings my arm affectionately and drags me to the table.

On the stove, there is a stew of fish and greens for supper. The bakery bread (which for some strange reason had an _arrow _in it until Katniss pulled said arrow out while hiding a smile) and strawberries are for dinner. We drink some of Lady's goat milk and eat our regular bread from the tesserae grain. I'm sure her milk tastes as lovely as always - sweet, rich, and creamy - but despite my sister's reassurances, I can't help but feel that horrible sinking feeling in my stomach that tells me something will go wrong. Mother pours me more milk, silently urging me to eat more. I force another slice of bread and two more glasses of milk. Mother squeezes my hand appreciatively, understanding what I did for her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games Trilogy. Suzanne Collins does.**

We come to the square at about one o' clock. I carefully observe everything and everyone to make sure that I don't worry anybody by panicking.

It's pretty today, I realize, surprised. The sky is clear blue, with no clouds in sight. I see birds perched high up in some of the taller buildings. There's nobody to chase them from the dust-flecked windows. Bright and colorful banners are also on most shops and buildings. The main areas surrounding the stage look hastily cleaned, possibly by the camera crew on the rooftops. I notice that one of the three chairs is empty, reserved for our past Victor, Haymitch Abernathy. Seated next to Mayor Undersee is Effie Trinket, the Capitol escort, wearing a _very _pink wig and tall, tall high heels. Her outfit is a duller pink.

Katniss gently tugs me forwards and signs us in. Then, she hugs me one last time and we separate. I head to the back; Katniss to the middle.

I wave to Caitlin, Briar, and Lily when I see them, joining my little group of friends.

"Hi," Briar murmurs softly to me, her vivid red eyes flitting around nervously as if expecting to be reprimanded for speaking.

"Hi," I whisper, flashing her a weak smile and reaching for her sweaty hands. "It's going to be alright," I tell Briar.

She nods, not looking very convinced.

Lily fidgets uncomfortably. This must be the first time she's been quiet before. Lily is usually happy and outgoing, always managing to find something to talk about.

"You...umm, look nice," she says quickly to me, desperate to change the subject. Lily's an only child so her parents were probably fussing over her. Briar is an orphan, that doesn't seem fair.

"Thank you," I say politely, "you look pretty, too." And she does in a purple and pink trimmed dress that fits her nicely. Lily also has a matching ribbon in her midnight black hair. She's wearing her regular old shoes, carefully polished so the coal dust is hardly visible.

Lily beams at the compliment in spite of the situation.

Caitlin doesn't say anything which is normal because of how quiet and shy she is. We all link hands and hold them tightly during Mayor Undersee's speech.

"Look," Lily nudges me excitedly, angling her face towards the boys' line. I see Rory looking away quickly.

"What?" I whisper, watching Rory's ears turn beet red. I can't see his face because he's talking to Elliot now, who is conveniently standing on his left - away from us.

"Rory Hawthorne was _staring _at _you_!" Lily squeals, clapping her hands happily. "Isn't that _cute?_ I told you he likes you."

Rory flinches and I catch a glimpse of his cheek somehow managing to burn a darker shade of red.

I elbow Lily sharply. "He _heard _you! You're embarrassing him."

"Shush, both of you. Effie Trinket is about to call out the names," Caitlin informs us quietly. Lily and I clamp our jaws tightly and stand straighter, wanting to know the unlucky two.

"Happy Hunger Games!" I hear Effie chirp in her funny Capitol accent. "And may the odds be _ever _in your favor!"

_Please, please_, please don't let it be Katniss, Rory, or my friends, or anyone else I know, I think desperately, willing my wish to come true.

"Ladies first!"

Please, _please_, don't let it be them. I hold my breath when Effie sticks her hand into the huge glass ball and swirls her hand, picking a single sheet of paper. I hear a loud gasp drawn out from the audience, but can't join them. If I breathe, then maybe my prayer won't be as special. It gets quiet. So quiet. My heart is pounding wildly and I realize something exactly before Effie Trinket reads the slip: I forgot to add myself in my pleas. No, no, no, no, _no_! I'll get picked. I'll get picked. I'll get picked! Caitlin squeezes my hand tighter, probably seeing my face pale. She's always so considerate and thoughtful.

"Primrose Everdeen!"

No.

No.

No!

No!

_No! _

_NO! _

I numbly stumble to the stage, barely registering the horrified looks on my friends' faces.

I feel so scared...almost empty. Blank. At least I won't shame my district by bursting into tears. I climb the steps and somehow hear the soft leather echoing. It's quiet again. Then, there is a low unhappy grumble.

I stare bleakly into the crowd, observing everyone I know. Lily's face is white as a sheet, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. Caitlin and Briar are hugging each other tightly and sobbing hopelessly. Rory is crying loudly, fists tightly clenched and a hard furious expression carved into his beautiful face. Gale is hardly managing to stand, shaking with unspoken rage. His veins look like they'll pop out any moment. Mother has herbs that will take the stress away. Mother has a broken desperate look on her face. Katniss is screeching out my first thoughts.

"_Prim! Prim! NO, NO, NO, NO!_" She looks like her whole world has been destroyed. Her hands are covering her face, soundless anguished sobs racking her body. She chants her hopeless cry over and over again.

Gale is by her side in an instant. I think they love each other. He swings her up in his big, strong arms the second she collapses. Katniss is so strong - constant, steady, unbreakable. She _can't _faint. She never has before. Something must be horribly wrong to make her faint.

"Katniss!" I scream, trying to get to my sister. Capitol guards push me back. I fall apart. Effie is looking at me in alarm; I can just make out her pinkness through my tears. I let my body slump on the dirty-clean ground and don't care to get up. Mayor Undersee gently lifts me, leaning my tiny body against his. I don't think he's allowed to do that...

"Prim!" Rory shrieks at me, thoroughly panicked, "Prim, get up! It'll be alright..." He shouts out empty promises and I can only shake my head at his impossible fantasies. I want them to be true too, but they won't. I'll die. And it will hurt so much when I do. I know everyone will miss me, but I'm not that important. I won't hurt them too badly, I'm sure.

Haymitch studies me briefly and quickly but drunkenly staggers in front of me, beginning to proclaim the wonder of pigs. I honestly don't think he has ever seen a real living pig in his life. Effie and the Mayor exchange nervous glances and Effie actually gives a sigh of relief when he trips and falls off the stage. Paramedics wheel his unconscious body away and I don't laugh. I hear others laughing, though.

"How exciting!" Effie Trinket squawks suddenly.

I shudder at her high-pitched voice, still feeling strangely detached. Mayor Undersee quickly checks my countenance and holds me tighter.

She struts to the other glass globe and calls out the male tribute brightly, trying to ignore her wig, slightly shifting to the side. "Peeta Mellark!"

He seems shocked at first, and then assumes an expression that looks awfully like concern. No one's supposed to worry about _me_, I think tiredly. But I can't force a smile for anyone right now. Effie asks for volunteers and there's no one. The Mayor gently releases me and I sway uncertainly. Peeta cradles me next. I don't know why he bothers. He has to kill me. Mayor Undersee recites a long dull speech and I think I fall asleep because when I half-way wake up, I see Peeta's pale sturdy neck. It looks like Peeta's neck, at least...


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games Trilogy. Suzanne Collins does.**

I scream the second I feel someone placing me on a cool soft couch. I don't bother opening my eyes; I just whimper and sob, curling into a fluffy rose scented pillow.

"Prim, my poor poor baby. Oh, no, no, no, no," Mother murmurs repeatedly, sounding distraught. She plays with my hair until I suddenly bolt up straight and throw myself into her arms.

"Mom. Mommy, I love you so much," I whisper. "Don't let them take me away. _Please_..."

"I'm so so sorry, sweetheart." I feel my lower lip quivering again and bite down hard to stop it. Mother notices. She hugs me tightly, saying how much she loves me also and apologizes. She says she would take my place in an instant if she could, except I don't want her to do that. My own mother can't just _die _for me. That's not right. I know it isn't.

There is a soft rustling sound and our eyes immediately go to the door. Mother clings to me, poised as if ready to flee with me in her arms. A young looking Peacekeeper holds his hands out, palms facing upwards, like a peace gesture. I don't understand. Then, he shoves Katniss inside, glaring harshly at her and someone behind her. Gale. Gale is eyeing her warily, always close to her, as she might fall.

"P-Prim," my sister says shakily. My vision is blurry from tears so I rub my eyes roughly to meet her half-crazed gaze. "I should have volunteered for you. I shouldn't have just _fainted_!" Katniss spits out the word with so much hate and disgust that I actually flinch. She doesn't notice and continues in her self-loathing rant. "It was against all odds, Prim, you only had one slip, the absolute safest. I should've been chosen." She draws in an unsteady breath and lowers her voice to an inaudible murmur. Gale's calm gray eyes widen at what she says and he wraps his arms around Katniss's waist, pulling her into his chest.

"Enough, Catnip," he says softly, but firmly.

She ignores him. "I'm your sister - I should've at least _been there for you_." Her trembling voice breaks and Gale quickly helps her sit on the fuzzy couch beside me. She flashes a weak glare at him before hugging me so forcefully that it starts to hurt. I don't tell her; this is my fault. All of it.

This is just so _wrong. _Katniss is like my shield. No, she's much more than that. She loves me and is always so defensive and sweet, caring and compassionate, steady and perfect. My sister is a constant. Never changing. So once she breaks, I break, and everyone else also. Katniss doesn't know how important she is. I can't let her down. I can't do that to anyone: my family, my friends, my whole District.

I promise to be strong. _I see Katniss coming home from The Hob, a small bag of money held carefully in one hand, the other with her hunting sack._

I promise to be brave. _I see Katniss and Gale, expressions hard with determination._

I promise to worry _no one_. _I see Mother after the mining accident, her tired face sad - hopeless, broken._

I promise to try my best. _I see myself with my friends, laughing and joking like before._

I promise to try to come home. _I see Rory's flushed happy face. Smiling because of _me.

I promise that I won't hurt anyone in the Arena. _I see nameless tributes bleeding and dying._

I promise to be me if I win. _I see Haymitch Abernathy, very drunk._

I promise to never forget anybody that I met if I die. _I see Father, who I promised to always remember._

_I promise._

"Sorry," Katniss says finally, retreating into the safety of Gale's chest once more.

"I'm fine," I reply, smiling gently at her. Our roles seem to have switched. I hate it. I hate it so much.

The Peacekeeper is suddenly at the door, gazing regretfully at me.

Why - ? No. Oh, no, no, no, no.

"Come home," Mother begs, "Prim, try to win. Promise me that you'll try your best."

"I promise." The words come out sounding frightened and shaky.

We all scream out "I love you"s and "I'll miss you"s and huddle together, hugging each other so tightly. Gale hugs me stiffly and wishes me good luck and to never lose hope so I can come back. He's never spoke to me so seriously before and I'm scared. I try to hide it, though.

The Peacekeeper shakes his head and points at his watch and then at the door.

A desperate scream tears itself from my throat.

He shakes his head again. My cheeks are instantly wet with warm salty tears and my breathing quick, ragged, and terrified.

My family gently releases me from our embrace and leave. Just like that, they leave.

I bury my face into the fuzzy purple pillow again, clutching the fabric fearfully. The door opens and I look up wearily, watching my friends come in.

"Prim!" Lily wails, "I'm so sorry, sorry, sorry-sorry-sorry-sorry!"

"Why are you sorry?" I say, feeling a grin sneaking up despite my tears.

She pauses, a confused frown on her pretty face. "Hmm...I don't know. Not really. Wait, let me think." Lily holds up one hand to my face, her eyebrows furrowing in concentration.

Briar gazes at me seriously, her bright red eyes appearing even redder than usual because of crying. Her superstitious grandmother won't like that. Probably say something about Briar being possessed by a demon again. Sweet, innocent, tiny Briar. The corner of my lips twitch up in a small smile.

"Prim," she starts, her voice shaking with intensity. "Prim, you need to listen to me. Come home. You _need _to come home. It won't be the same if you...leave us. We love you and _need_ you! Oh, Prim, you mustn't ever give up! Never, okay? Promise me!"

"I promise," I tell her, just as solemnly. "I'll try my best to come home."

Briar wails in pain then, throwing her thin arms around me, heart beating unbelievably fast. Caitlin and Lily join in, weeping loudly, too. I'm in the center of the embrace, feeling the dampness of all our wet tears combined. I don't complain. They're here and that matters a lot to me. They're all so scared, though. Scared for me. I feel so guilty. At my reaping, I just didn't care. I was numb, then.

Caitlin opens her mouth as if to speak, but no words come out. She shakes her head, Seam gray eyes staring at me ruefully. Caitlin presses the palm of her hand to my cheek, and gives a wan smile. She kisses my forehead and hugs me again. I understand. She loves me and will miss me. Caitlin cautiously places something in the palm of my hand. A little tin bracelet with a carefully carved wooden heart in the center. It's pretty.

"Thank you; I love you so much!" I beam, hugging and kissing her gratefully.

The Peacekeeper comes. I don't protest. It doesn't help at all. It makes my throat raw and sore and my eyes sting. My friends don't either. He begins to usher them out.

"OH! I remember _now_!" Lily pipes up suddenly, spinning around to face me, a funny little smile on her lips. "That you got reaped!"

She says this cheerfully and proudly, as if that's a good thing.

"What?" I say dumbly.

Lily rolls her eyes and repeats slowly, "You, Primrose Everdeen, got r-e-a-p-e-d. Reaped. Do you understand?"

I reply just as slowly: "I know. I'm not stupid. Primrose Everdeen is aware that she was just reaped. Why does that mat-_ter_?"

She huffs impatiently. "I forgot!"

"Okay," I say, shrugging.

"_NO!"_ Lily whines. "I forgot then I remembered!"

"What?" I say again.

"You got reaped!"

"Okay. I understand." I decide to go along with whatever she says.

Lily stares at me in disbelief. "You don't." She breathes in deeply to calm herself. "Let me explain this again."

"Ahem." The Peacekeeper who was observing our "argument" amusedly interrupts us with a polite cough. "We're on a tight schedule. You're taking time off from any other visitors."

"Okay," Caitlin says quietly, "we'll go. It doesn't really matter, Lily."

Lily glowers at her briefly before nodding her agreement. "Yes. We will. Bye, Prim. See you _soon._"

We exchange good-byes hurriedly and they leave, too. I realize something: I'm not crying anymore. Rory comes next.

"Wow," he says immediately, wrinkling his lightly freckled nose. "You look awful."

"Gee, thanks," I say, rolling my eyes.

"No offense or anything," Rory says quickly. "I just mean...you...like, ew. But you're still pretty, Prim. You always are." He adds softly.

"Thanks." My cheeks are probably a bright red by now. "For coming and everthing, too."

"No problem. And...umm...I hope you win." Rory runs a hand through his short dark hair nervously.

"Thanks," I say again, wondering why he seems so different all of a sudden. We sit in silence for a few minutes until he pulls me into a rough hug.

"I'll miss you," he whispers in my ear. "I-I think I l-l...n-never mind. You're a great friend."

"You, too," I murmur softly, feeling slightly disappointed.

"Time's up," the Peacekeeper says abruptly. "One more visitor. You'll have about a second with him if he doesn't leave now."

"Good-bye, Prim. You _will _win." Rory kisses me quickly, so quickly that I might've imagined it. But there is a noticeable crimson flush painting his cheeks.

"Bye. I'll try my best," I whisper, fingers gingerly touching my lips. He chokes back a sob and exits swiftly, rubbing his eyes angrily.

Mr. Mellark is my visitor.

"Here," he says gruffly, handing a small white bag. I open it carefully and sniff its sweet sugary fragrance.

"Thank you," I say, smiling up at him.

"Yes." He nods and shuffles around awkwardly. "Well...good luck." The baker rises to leave and I wave. He waves back and then disappears.

The Peacekeeper gently escorts me to a car. He tells me that it leads to the Justice building. I'm so scared, but I don't cry this time. I promised to be brave. So, I will. Starting now.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So...umm...over a month late. Sorry. There are about a million half-believeable excuses I could spew out right now but I won't. This chapter is so not worth the wait...sorry again. I did try to make it longer, though. I'm not losing interest or anything so still expect updates about every other week. (I have the next one written out mostly already). I'll try, anyway. Oh, and I added Haymitch in for more words...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games trilogy. Suzanne Collins does.**

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><p>It's a short ride in the car. It feels nice. This is the first time I've ever been in one. We always just walk. The train station is filled with reporters. They focus their cameras on the District 12 tributes - us. I briefly see myself on one of the television screens. Rory's right. I do look awful. Mother's prettily made braids have come undone so my hair is everywhere, tangled and frizzy, as if I just woke up. My skirt and blouse are <em>very <em>wrinkled, of course, the blouse untucked. My blue eyes are spider webbed with red, looking puffy and swollen. My pale cheeks are tear-stained and flushed. Feeling self-conscious, I glance sideways at Peeta.

He's also been crying. While I tug at my messy braids in embarrassment, Peeta stares at the cameras, his gaze steady and unwavering. His blond hair is rumpled and he has tears drying on his cheeks. Peeta doesn't even wipe them away. Maybe he didn't notice.

I catch his eye and gesture at his cheek, dragging my finger slowly down my own. It's a very exaggerated movement; impossible to misunderstand. 'Tears, tears, tears,' I mouth repeatedly to him.

Peeta laughs, shrugging compliantly and using the back of his hand to dry his face. 'Happy?' he mouths, blue eyes still twinkling with amusement.

I frown. 'Yes.'

Peeta pouts, lips agape and ready to reply.

We approach the train and spin around almost immediately because Effie Trinket squeals out: "Smile for the cameras!"

The cameras were already flashing at us, even when our faces were mostly hidden by the tinted windows of the car. I look at Peeta for guidance who is looking at our Capitol escort who is beaming and posing beside us. He smiles uncertainly at the crowd so I try to do the same. I think it comes out as a grimace, though, because my nose is very obviously crinkling at Effie's hand on my shoulder. Her bizarre fingernails scrape against my neck.

"Time's up!" she sings out suddenly. "Into the train." Effie pushes us roughly inside, pausing only to blow a final kiss through the quickly closing doors.

The train starts the second the doors close so Peeta and I stumble to what I suppose are seats. They are shaped like gigantic squiggles and have strange designs etched into them. Said seats are neon green with random splotches of other colors that shimmer when you sit. They are surprisingly comfortable and smell nice. Effie laughs when she sees me with my nose pressed to the material that smell of a sweet perfume. Almost like candy. I blush and turn my gaze to the window.

A wave of nausea washes over me as I stare out the windows, head spinning with the dull green of forest and shiny blue of ocean. I quickly look down at my feet and breathe in unsteadily with my hands pressed tightly to my mouth.

"Prim?" Peeta says anxiously, cool fingers gently kneading my skin.

"I'm fine," I croak, desperately hoping that I don't vomit all over him or the fancy seats.

"Effie!" Peeta calls. "Prim isn't -"

Effie cuts him off, her tone surprised. "Why are you still here? Didn't you hear me when I dismissed you to your rooms?"

Peeta shakes his head. "You never said -"

She ignores him. "Kitchen there, dining room there, yours there, hers there. Oh, and each of your rooms have a private bathroom and dressing areas with walk-in closets."

"Okay, tha -"

"Isn't this lilac so flattering to my eyelashes? I just love that color, don't you?"

Peeta sighs loudly and leads me to my chambers.

"There. I'll be across your room in case you ever need me."

He pauses at the door and studies me one last time before leaving to his room.

I stumble to my bathroom and splash cold water on my face. It doesn't really help. I close my eyes and lean against a cool opaque wall and jump back, startled as it swings shut and traps me inside. I scream. Warm water is spraying my entire body and causing my clothes to sag with its weight. I peel them off carefully and toss them over the edge of the wall. The water suddenly stops and a blue light is flashing under a row of colorful bottles. _Select your shampoo_, it reads. This is a _bath_? I shakily reach for the closest one, a soft pink. It flips upside down and squirts a small amount on my open palm. I sniff it cautiously and rub it into my hair. The blonde is barely visible through the strawberry scented foam. And then the water is back, washing away the soap quickly. Another sign lights up, also blue, and directs me to something called conditioner and more soap. My bath continues like this until the opaque wall pops open and I see a rack of towels. I dry myself and head over to the closet, pulling on the first thing I find: a little white dress.

Exhausted, I sit on the edge of my bed, only to be called for dinner promptly after. Effie leads me to a table where Peeta is already seated.

"Where's Haymitch?" Effie asks, looking at the empty chair hopefully.

"Last time I saw him, he said he was going to take a nap," Peeta says.

"Well, it's been an exhausting day." Effie's bold purple lips press together to hide her very obvious excitement.

Supper comes in seemingly endless courses delivered by servants who are dressed in red. I thank them but the boy ignores me and the girl says nothing, the corners of her mouth lifting in a polite smile. I frown and don't say anything to them afterwards. I eat hurriedly and carefully finish every last crumb, thinking that no one back home would ever be able to eat so well. Maybe I should be grateful. Then, I remember that in about a week I will be in the Games and probably dead. I shiver and stare at my fancy silverware, feel my appetite waning. I sip my water slowly and wait for the others to finish. Peeta gulps down his water when he finishes, his face pale and hands gently resting on his stomach.

We watch a recap of the reapings in the compartment room. We see each tribute from each district being called, rarely ever being replaced by a volunteer. My heart goes out to all of them, knowing that someone somewhere will be missing them terribly with the horrible knowledge that only a single Victor could emerge. I wonder how their lives were before they were reaped and what they would have become. I wonder if all of us would've died anyway in this year because of fate. If death was unavoidable for twenty-three of us and the Games only hurry the process. I wonder if back home that anyone is scared for me and praying that I come home.

I notice how each the tributes reacted.

District One: The girl volunteered, smirking at her father defiantly and ignored her mother and sisters studiously; the boy glanced hopefully at his little sister while volunteering.

District Two: The girl was startled when her name was called but quickly hid behind an emotionless and confident façade; the boy volunteered and no one dared to oppose him, even scrambling back to clear a path.

District Three: The girl is so thin and pale. She made her way on the stage trembling with fright and tears rolling down her cheeks. The boy is tiny but sixteen. His hands are gray, rough and calloused, I can tell by the surprise that appeared briefly on Emilie's face when they shook hands.

District Four: The girl volunteered and sauntered confidently but her hands subtly yanked her short skirt lower; the boy volunteered but his voice shook noticeably.

District Five: The girl jumped when her name was called but after that, she hid her fear well; the boy is starving and overworked. He was tired, his shoulders were slightly hunched and eyes kept on darting around nervously.

District Six: They were both starving and scared, shaking but looking at no one, maybe because they _had _no one. The boy is seventeen; the girl fifteen.

District Seven: The girl is huge, long-legged and broad shouldered. She moved hesitantly and awkwardly. The boy is tanned and has a long scar down his left arm and a slightly crooked elbow.

District Eight: The girl is sick. She coughed and breathed loudly, almost straining with effort. The boy was staring desperately at a pretty girl, probably his girlfriend or sister, the entire time. He had tears rolling down his cheeks.

District Nine: The girl was sobbing. The way her shoulders were hunched and her sad, sad eyes, I can tell she already lost hope. She doesn't care anymore... The boy is thirteen. He pretended to not care but it's so easy to tell how fake he is.

District Ten: The girl was scared but trying in vain to hide it. She has huge brown eyes and a quivering lip. The boy is crippled. He had help limping onto the stage and to the train. He seems so helpless.

District Eleven: The girl is tiny, only twelve like me. She has a huge family, Mother balancing two babies on her hips and Father with her brothers. She didn't scream, protest, or even cry. She was terrified though. The boy is huge – even bigger than the girl from Seven. He is muscled, his entire body rippling with muscles as he stalked on the stage. He was sad. Gentle, too. He gently touched Rue, light as a butterfly.

District 12: I looked just as I imagined. I flinch when I see how much everyone was hurting, Rory especially. I actually bolt up straight and run to the screen when he started screaming to me. My fingers brush against the smooth material before I realize that he isn't there. Peeta gently carries me back to the sofa and hugs me even though I tell him that I'm fine.

Peeta is still holding me when Effie says something that lightens the mood considerably.

"Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behavior."

I'm pressed against his chest while she says this, so I can see his face contort with surprise. I snort at the look on his face and dissolve into giggles when both Peeta and Effie stare at me. He laughs a moment later and I can feel his body shaking as he does. It tickles so I laugh again.

Effie's mouth falls open in outrage. "How odd you two find it so amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!"

"Sorry!" I squeak immediately. "I didn't mean to - I didn't - I don't want to _die_!" My eyes begin to fill up with tears. I bury my face in my hands and take a few moments to compose myself. I broke my promise...

Peeta sets me on sofa lightly. He turns to Effie, seething with anger. He opens his mouth to say something but as if on cue, Haymitch drunkenly staggers in.

"I miss supper?" he slurs. Haymitch looks up in confusion and then vomits all over the fluffy carpet. I manage to reach him in time and position his body so he doesn't fall into his mess.

Effie's eyes bulge in horror as she flees the room.

"Um...Peeta?" I ask sheepishly. "I'm stuck..."

He sighs and gently drags Haymitch off my body and places him neatly on the carpet and away from the puddle. "Are you okay?"

I stare at him. "Of course I am. He isn't, though." My gaze shifts to our mentor again. "Help me clean him up, alright?"

Peeta lifts him up again and turns to the direction of Haymitch's room. "I can do it. You don't have to."

"I've seen worse," I tell him indignantly. "I just can't carry him. He's too heavy."

He says nothing to me in reply, only muttering under his breath. Peeta drops him into the bathtub and turns on the water - Haymitch still wearing all of his dirty clothes.

"Hey!" I twist the faucet. "He'll get _cold._ And he's still dressed!"

I carefully peel of Haymitch's wet, sticky suit and position him so that he leans upright. I turn the water on the lowest setting, making sure that it's warm. I squirt some soap into my palm and gently rub it on his red, blotchy skin. Then, I spray off the bubbles with the shower head and drape a fluffy towel over his shoulders to make him a little more comfortable. He needs to get clothed.

"Peeta?" I ask hesitantly without meeting his eyes. "Haymitch needs me to dress him and he's still too heavy..."

Peeta roughly yanks him up and holds him stiffly and away from his own body.

"I'm sorry..." I apologize uncertainly. "You can dress him if you want...I should leave now...?"

He keeps his lips pressed together.

"Sorry."

I spin around and race back to my room, afraid that my District partner is upset with me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games trilogy, Suzanne Collins does.**

I put on a silk polka-dotted nightgown and carefully fold up the white dress, leaving it at the ground near the dresser. It's soiled and smells and I can't find a specific place for it. Then, I curl up on the bed, slightly scared by its thick fluffiness. At home, I slept with Katniss and Buttercup. They would keep me warm. And sometimes I would go with Mother. But this Capitol bed has warmth and no comfort, no familiarity. I am alone but it's like the bed is lying to me and saying that I'm not. Saying that I'm safe and loved.

I'm terrified of sleeping. I might dream and have everything torn away from me when I wake up. I might have a nightmare. I might not dream and be stuck in a dark, empty void until I wake. I might cry in the morning. I miss Katniss. I miss Buttercup. I miss Mother. I miss Rory. I miss Lily, Caitlin, and Briar. I miss Daddy. I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home. I want my life back the way it was. I just want my _life._

I bury my face in the green pillow and grasp the fabric desperately, breathing in and out. In and out. Not letting myself cry. I won't. Not ever again. In and out. In and out. I leave the lights on. Maybe I won't sleep, then. I'll pretend to wake up tomorrow and no one will notice. And I'll be as safe as a twelve-year-old tribute can be in the Games.

* * *

><p>The next morning, I wake up. Which means I accidentally fell asleep.<p>

I dreamt of nothing. I was alone and it was just so cold but I couldn't scream. I couldn't say anything or even move. It was like I was trapped and suffocating. Like I was dying. But the most frightening thing was that I couldn't feel scared, not until I woke up and opened my eyes.

"Up, up, _up_!" Effie begins to say, barging into the room and bouncing on the bed. "It's going to be a big -" She swats at my face. "- big, big day today."

"I am up," I mutter under my breath, rubbing my sore cheek.

She gasps dramatically. "Oh, my. I didn't even see you! I didn't expect you to be_ that _short!"

I scowl internally but smile forcedly at her.

"Time to eat. Get dressed and ready quickly," Effie Trinket says curtly, seemingly annoyed at my bad acting.

"I will," I say to her retreating figure.

I'll probably skip the shower, seeing how I still shudder at the thought. Today, I'll just wash my face instead. I use a fruity blue soap that has little beads in it. I run a brush through my messy hair, wavy from sleeping while it was still partly wet. I choose another random outfit: a gold and green striped jumper with tight silver pants and froggy slippers. I brush my teeth and head down to the dining car.

Peeta, Effie, and Haymitch Abernathy are already there; Haymitch the only one looking the least bit comfortable. Peeta is awkwardly perched in his chair and nibbling on a roll. Effie is standing rigidly, glaring fiercely at Haymitch. He seems to find her hilarious and this infuriates Effie Trinket who storms away.

"Why did you do that?" I blurt out in annoyance. "She didn't do anything to you."

Haymitch's amused smirk quickly changes to a scowl - directed at me.

"Sorry," I apologize immediately. "It's just - I didn't - sorry..." Peeta looks at me briefly and I feel heat creeping over my face. "I think I forgot something in my room. I'd better go and...get it, like, now..."

"_Prim._"

Peeta does not sound happy.

I turn around and guiltily meet his blue eyes. "Yes?"

"You're going to eat. Here. With us. And listen our mentor's advice. The Games start next week."

I nod and sit down in the seat farthest from both of them.

"Well." Peeta sounds impatient. I flinch. "Advise us."

"Here's some advice. Stay alive!" Haymitch Abernathy bursts out laughing, gray eyes shining with good humor.

"That's very funny." Peeta lashes out and knocks out the glass of wine in his hand, sending shards of glass and bloodred liquid all over the carpet. "Only not to us."

I jump back, startled.

Haymitch contemplates this for a moment, gray eyes furious like a raging storm. It's frightening how quickly his emotions can change. He raises a hand and punches Peeta squarely in the jaw, strong enough to make him stumble back in his chair.

I gasp, looking at the red swelling on his pale jaw.

Haymitch reaches for more liquor and Peeta stands up, enraged.

"Wait, don't!" I plead with both of them, gently untangling Haymitch's fingers from the bottle. "Why can't we talk nicely? Please?"

At the same time, both of them snort disbelievingly.

I burst into a fit of unexplained giggles.

Despite themselves, a smile begins to stretch along their lips, _simultaneously._

I laugh harder. I've never been such a giggly person before. Peeta and Haymitch must think I'm crazy. I finally manage to control my body and stop. "What?" I ask nervously, seeing two pairs of eyes cautiously watching me. At the same time. I slap both hands over my mouth.

"Prim?" Peeta says calmly. "Did you sleep last night?"

"Yeah. Dreamt of nothing, though." I still have a maniacally huge smile plastered on my face.

"You haven't eaten yet, have you?"

"N-no." I hope he still isn't upset with me. "Not yet."

Peeta smiles warmly, placing a steamy mug in my hands. "They call it hot chocolate. Try some; it's good."

I stare dumbly at him for awhile, feeling strangely amazed at how guys' moods are so versatile. Gale is never like this but maybe that's because I've never been with him alone. Katniss is usually with him and sometimes when she's not, Rory is. Rory isn't unpredictable, either. I know him well enough that I can practically read his mind - emotions at the very least.

"Come on, Prim, I promise it's not poison," Peeta says gently, touching my hands which are wrapped around the mug.

"Oh. Right."

I sniff it cautiously and take a small sip. It tastes...sickeningly sweet. Peeta likes it but the warm, creamy, _sweet _liquid tastes much too sweet and the gross wet warmness as it slides down my throat...

"Mmm," I say, setting down the cup. "It _is _really, really good. I love it." I'm hoping that I sound convincing enough that I don't have to finish it. Then, I start stuffing my mouth with food until he'll believe that I'm too full to drink it.

Peeta briefly watches me eat and then turns back to our mentor, voice cold again. "Any advice?"

Haymitch glowers at us now. "No. You're both hopeless. The child much more than the boy."

"_Ex_cuse me?" Peeta and I both say, sending identical piercing glares Abernathy's way. Peeta's voice is louder, seriously enraged, while mine is softer but still holds the same degree of disbelief.

"You heard me," Abernathy says smugly, raising his bottle to his lips and not bothering to pour it into another cup.

"You're supposed to _help _us!" I scream, voice raising frighteningly in panic. "You're supposed to care about us. You're supposed to prevent us from dying. You're supposed to get us sponsors. You're supposed to cry if we die. You're supposed to congratulate us if we win. You're supposed to at least _care_, Abernathy!"

And suddenly I'm sobbing, senses consumed by a foreign irrational anger. I walk over to him briskly (for some reason I feel as if I'm flying) and slap him hard on his cheek.

Abernathy is trembling but I don't back away. "How dare -"

"Shut up, Haymitch Abernathy! You're going to kill us and you don't even care!" I slap him again in the same spot. "You don't _care_. So I hate you."

"Prim," Peeta says quietly.

I turn to face him, even though I still can't see because of my tears.

"Prim, he's bleeding."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games trilogy; Suzanne Collins does.**

I gape at Peeta, swallowing with some difficulty. "T-that's n-not possible..." I trail off painfully.

My beautiful bracelet Caitlin gave to me somehow slit a huge gap in Haymitch's cheek, starting from his eyebrow and gradually curling to his upper lip. Blood is streaming from the cut and dripping down the left side of his face. His skin - red, puffy, and bloated - is hanging precariously by a thin thread of flesh and swaying slowly from left to right. Left to right. Left to right. If I missed his cheek...I could have _killed _him...

"Oh, God..." I force myself to meet his shocked gaze. "Oh, God...H-Haymitch... I am so _sorry_!"

I could've killed him.

"H-Haymitch..._H-Haymitch_! I d-didn't -" I break off sobbing but look back into his eyes.

I could've killed him.

"Hey." Rough, weathered hands gently dry my tears. "S'alright..."

"I could've _killed_ you," I whisper softly. "I could have killed you."

Soft, pale hands carefully place a cold, wet cloth in my palm. "Here. Prim, you helped your mother in the apothecary shop, didn't you?"

I could have killed him.

"No. It'll get infected - that's not clean," I say distantly. "I need..."

My thoughts are flooded by that single repetitive phrase. I can't speak. The words are tattooed into my vision even though I'm certain that I stopped crying. I can't see.

"I-I..." The words come out of my mouth weakly and I _can't _continue. "I -"

"Prim?" Peeta says worriedly. "Prim, can you hear me?"

I open my mouth to answer but nothing happens.

A dainty gasp. "What in Panem _happened _here?" Effie squeaks, voice surprisingly quiet. "I'll fetch an Avox..."

And then I can't hear either. The last thing I hear is a soft thump. The last thing I see is an indistinct blond blur. The last thing I say sounds like a whimper. The last thing I feel is numbness. Maybe even relief.

* * *

><p>Haymitch Abernathy is all stitched up. He's in a bad mood. He's sober. He can't drink. Effie Trinket says it's a blessing in disguise. Peeta Mellark agrees with her. Peeta Mellark thinks I should lighten up. That's mean of him. I try to glare at him. It comes out weak. Peeta Mellark reminds me about the cookies. Peeta Mellark passes me the white bag. I give them back to him. Peeta Mellark wants me to eat them. I shake my head. I pretend Haymitch Abernathy isn't looking at me. I pretend to eat my food.<p>

I go to my room. I think they're worried about me. I think Effie Trinket is only pretending to. She somehow seems fake. Haymitch Abernathy probably hates me. He must want me in the Games so I can die. I want to die, too. Peeta Mellark is always joking and laughing. At night, Peeta Mellark watches me pretend to sleep. After maybe an hour, he leaves. I know he cares about me. He shouldn't let himself get too attached. I'll die first in the bloodbath. Haymitch Abernathy will be happy. I owe him that, at least.

* * *

><p>Colorful people are going to make me pretty. They're my prep team. Prep stands for preparation. They make me look pretty in preparation for the stylist. I have to be pretty for him or else he won't recognize me underneath all the layers of dirt and blonde hair. I stay still for the prep team to help them a little.<p>

An orange man with purple lips congratulates me for that. I try to smile for him. He gently pinches my cheeks. I try another smile. They chirp something else to me but I can't understand them. Their Capitol accents blur in my head with all the other noises so I can't distinguish one from the other. And then they leave.

I cry out, almost colliding with a man trying to stop me. I frown. I stay with him instead because when he's there; I'm not physically alone anymore. His name is Cinna. I know that because he repeated it enough for me to catch and he sounds like a Cinna. His voice is quiet, low, and slightly wistful. Foreign. I couldn't have thought up an unfamiliar name like that all by myself. He's gentle. He held my face in his hand and carefully told me what's happening and what he's going to do. Of course, I couldn't keep up and just listened to his soothing voice. It reminds me - only a little, though - of Father. Father's better. At everything. I don't know Cinna apart from his name. I don't even know his last name.

He walks around me slowly, taking in my physical appearance, but he never removes his touch from my skin. He knows I want someone. He's nice enough to let me hold his hand even after he's done. He keeps one hand wrapped around mine and the other is pressed against my cheek again. He says something while staring intently into my eyes, as if trying to make me understand something important. I don't understand. I shake my head helplessly, trying to say at least one word. I can't.

He gently slides a loose robe on me and tightens it around my waist. I watch him unsteadily, wondering why he didn't even try telling me why I'm here. I would've heard his voice. Suddenly, food appears on the table. I don't understand. He encourages me to eat. I pretend for him. He doesn't buy it. I drop the silverware back and distantly watch the colorful jiggly thing fall back on the plate. It doesn't break.

He grabs my hand and almost burns it - on purpose. "Fire."

"...f-fire..." I repeat quietly, entranced by the familiar smoky light.

He smiles. "Fire. Are you afraid of fire?"

"No...it's so - so..." I trail off, turning to face him.

"So?" Cinna prompts me gently, cupping my chin and looking into my eyes. His grip is firm.

"...w-what?"

"Synthetic fire."

The words after that blur but I don't welcome the fog this time. He has something important to say. I should listen.

* * *

><p>I'm in black. Shiny-ish dull black. I have a pretty cape. It's only partly black. It's very pretty. It has streams of other colors. It's only partly black. It's pretty. I also have a matching headpiece. It's even prettier than the cape. It has <em>glitter<em>. Glitter sparkles. Glitter is very sparkly. I'm wearing lip gloss. It's cherry red and sparkly. It's pretty. I have no other make-up. The green lady wanted to hide the circles under my eyes. Cinna disagreed with her. My hair is neatly brushed and curled away from the headpiece and cape.

Peeta looks like me. His short hair is even curled a little at the front to match mine. He has no glitter and sparkles, though.

We're hurriedly shoved down to a horse place. It has horses. It's... It has chariots. It has - it's a stable. Where horses live. Cinna and an orange-haired lady direct us to our chariot. It has a _12_ on the back. Cinna places me on the chariot and the both of them adjust our capes and make a few other adjustments. Then they leave. Belatedly, I realize that _we are on the two black horses._ We'll kill them!

"P-Peeta, how much do you weigh?" I ask briskly, a hint of hysteria in my tone.

"Why does it matter?" He grips my hands tightly, soothingly. "Prim, calm down."

"We're going to _kill_ them! They're not even t-that big! They have to pull -" I jerk my thumb to point at the chariot. "_that _and us on it! They'll probably be sore and hurt and - and - we need to get off!"

Peeta laughs, tracing little circles on the back of my hand. "No. The other horses are doing fine. They were trained for this. See?"

"You're lying...they can't - oh. _Oh. _Okay."

The opening music started and the horses easily pull us but slowly, because we're at the end of the line. We're District Twelve.

District One is obviously first. Dressed in tasteful jeweled tunics and silver-skinned the tributes are pulled by pure white horses. They look perfectly at ease in front of everyone and they show it. Glimmer is beaming confidently while leaning on the back of the chariot. Her posture shows off her skin - a lot of it - and her tiny outfit helps. Marvel is confident. Very. Glimmer blows kisses and Marvel smirks. The Capitol crowd screams and cheers loudly.

District Two is beginning to follow them but I can't focus because we are quickly approaching the entrance. Cinna appears with a lighted torch.

"Here we go," he says, quickly lighting our capes. "It works," he breathes faintly, relieved.

"Cinna?" I almost scream. "You're -"

"Relax," he says worriedly, stroking my hair. "Synthetic fire, remember? It won't hurt. Just synthetic. We already talked about this. Prim, relax." Then he lights our headdresses.

"Cinna?" I repeat, feeling tears starting to well up in my eyes.

"Synthetic fire. Shh."

He exchanges a quick look with Peeta and steps away slowly, keeping eye contact until I can't see him at all.

"Relax," Peeta says repeatedly, squeezing my hand firmly.

The crowd looks alarmed but after they realize that we're not _really_ burning, they start cheering. Cheering and clapping and shouting and screaming. For _us_. I start laughing.

Peeta looks at me and smiles.

I see us on the huge television screens and am left breathless. We. Are. _Beautiful_. The firelight illuminates our faces and makes us sparkle. My stylists rubbed a glittery lotion thing that makes me beautiful. The glitter catches more light and shines yellow, orange, and red. Peeta's face is all lit up, excited and happy. We _glow_. We _shine_. We _burn_. A happy squeal escapes my throat and I actually jump up and down. On television. In front of the whole nation of Panem. Peeta laughs, his grip on my hand steady and preventing me from falling. In that one moment, I lose all control of my strangely giddy feelings.

"CINNA!" My voice somehow carries above the roaring music. Peeta watches me nervously. "I _love _you! WE'RE ON FIRE! WE'RE GONNA BURN! GONNA BURN THE WHOLE WORLD!"

And then I collapse against Peeta, giggling helplessly with my face thrust up to the sky. I don't even think I made any sense! But it feels so _good_ to let go of everything and just be happy. I feel like before. I feel weightless. I feel like I'm flying. I feel like I'm on top of the world. I feel like I _own_ the world. I feel so loved. I feel like I am going to win. I feel...like there's something very wrong with me. I ignore that and beam, my face positioned in a surreal, perfect, _majestic_ way. I look carefree. I look like I'm a princess. I look as if I came from a fairy tale. I look like a fairy. I look beautiful. I experimentally blow a kiss at myself, enchanted by how beautiful I look. I look nothing like plain, ordinary, Primrose Everdeen. I catch myself a moment later, blushing deeply and staring at my toes.

"Prim! Primrose! Prim!" The Capitolians all scream my name.

I look up hesitantly, feeling Peeta tugging our hands upwards. He pulls them up so high that I know everyone can see us, even if they had no screens.

"District Twelve! District Twelve! District Twelve!"

Someone tosses a perfect primrose to me. I barely manage to catch it. It's a brilliant yellow, surrounded by distinctive white petals. Fragile, delicate, and beautiful. I blow another kiss, this time directed at a real direction and not just to myself on the screen. A million hands reach up to grab it and my mouth falls open. Then I give out more kisses - what they want. I get more flowers, mostly red roses.

All twelve chariots are in the City Circle now and the cheers are louder than ever. Our horses stop right in front of President Snow's mansion and the music ends with a flourish. He gives the traditional welcoming speech but I don't listen. I do it voluntarily.

"That was fun," I whisper breathlessly to Peeta, untangling our numb fingers.

He nods, swinging my hand and then letting go.

I stare at all the people, fascinated by their...different fashions. They look like birds. Very exotic, pretty birds. All of them have quieted down and are respectfully listening to our president's words but occasionally, I see their eyes drifting to the District Twelve chariot.

The horses take us back to the Training Center where the prep teams are waiting. They chirp out praise all at once and swarm to their tributes. Cinna and the other lady first help us down, and then take away our flames. She sprays them and the fire dies instantly.

"That was fun," I say again, skipping around in a circle. I purposely bump into Peeta and laugh.

"Yeah. You seem a lot happier now," he says cautiously.

"I am."

"You looked good tonight." He says this quickly, almost like to cover up. Then, Peeta flashes a warm smile at me. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Me, too." I hug him tightly.

As I start to withdraw, I notice so _many_ pairs of eyes glaring at us. Glaring with pure hatred and jealousy.

But we didn't do anything.

Peeta follows my shocked gaze and tells me quietly, "They want to win."


End file.
